


Star-crossed friends

by 3nbyofthehour



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, but not much comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3nbyofthehour/pseuds/3nbyofthehour
Summary: This is my 2nd fic I've ever written to publish. please don't judge me, I hate it too.
Kudos: 11





	Star-crossed friends

**Author's Note:**

> [[[Warning- this work contains a graphic depiction of self harm. I write or read this instead of doing it, as a coping mechanism. This one became so plot-heavy I decided it was worth putting into the real world but if you will be triggered or disturbed then go away, look up your favorite fandom and read something else. Please.]]]

Logan is staring into space, distracted by the blinking neon sign and the smell of fried food and the bustle of fellow customers from what his best friend is saying.

"...then there's this bruise, which is actually from me, but look, he drew hearts around it so I would feel better! Isn't that adorable, lo? Lo? Are you listening?"

"Yeah, I'm listening. You're going on about your soulmate again."

Roman's soulmate was just as dramatic as he was. They were a perfect match. He made great romantic gestures and they talked for hours by writing on their skin so it would show up in the same place on each other. Then roman would swoon over him and logan would have to listen.

Logan hated his soulmate. He doodled all over their hands in pen that didn't come off for days. He never made an attempt to start up a conversation. Neither did logan, of course, but he had an excuse. Logan hated anything on his hands. He knew it was irrational, a product of his suspected/undiagnosed ocd, but it made him horribly uncomfortable.

The first time logan had found his soulmate's drawings on him- a purple anime style eye on his left hand- he had spent hours trying to scrub it off, to no avail. It wouldn't come off his skin until it came off his soulmate's.

The other reason this disturbed logan so much was because he didn't want a soulmate. The marks never showed up until your 13th birthday, which was plenty of time for logan to have figured out that he didn't "like, Like like" any girls, or boys, or anyone in between. He knew he was aromantic and asexual, so why would he want a soulmate?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A few hundred miles away, Virgil was in a similar situation. An aro kid, thinking about soulmates.

He was sitting on his bed, reading on his computer at 3:47 in the morning. He clicked on the "show more search results" link and snickered to himself. This was going nowhere.

He remembered his first foray into trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He first came across the various quiet identities and suddenly he understood that he wasn't wrong, wasn't broken, he was okay how he was. Then he read that aromantic or asexual people get platonic soulmates, and he plummeted back into isolation again.

Aside from a few unexplained bruises and scratches, he had never gotten anything that served as evidence of a soulmate. None of the notes or doodles everyone else had. And he was clumsy and forgetful. He was teased for it his whole childhood. He held out hope for a while these scrapes were from his soulmate, but as his notes went unanswered he had slowly given up on that wish.

Frustrated, Virgil hit his head on the wall. Once, twice. He stopped. He didn't want to draw attention. He felt so bad, but couldn't bring himself to cry. He felt so empty, craving catharsis. He sighed in resignation and fetched a blade from the bathroom.

Virgil gritted his teeth. He dug it into his arm and dragged it across, slicing, watching as the tiny canyon between paper-thin layers of skin filled and overflowed with blood. He did it again and again and again. His breathing slowed- he hadn't even noticed it was frantic. He watched his blood dripping rythmically onto the floorboards.

Eventually it stopped. To tired to clean it up, he pushed around a pile of dirty laundry to hide the congealed puddle until the morning.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Logan was hanging out at Roman's house with his brothers, (brother and stepbrother, roman would always correct) remus and patton.

They were playing telestrations and he had made the mistake of sitting after remus in the sequence, so he was hanging roman a detailed and anatomically correct drawing of a penis wearing a hat when roman asked "lo, are you bleeding?"

Sure enough, a coppery smell had filled the room and my navy blue hoodie sleeve was showing crimson patches. "My stupid son of a bitch soulmate" logan said.

He unrolled his sleeves and watched as more lines slices their way across his forearm. It was painless for him, and very strange. "He's... cutting himself?" Patton looked horrified. Roman pouted. "Poor kid, he doesn't even know you're there. He must feel so alone."

Shit. It's Logan's fault. He had slowly watched the drawings get edgier and darker, and the notes get fewer and far between, but he had never imagined he was causing his soulmate so much pain. Why hadn't he noticed? He never even thought-

"No- lo, I didn't mean it like that!" Roman exclaimed, realizing what he had said. "I just meant that maybe we should try to find him, find some other way to tell him who you are? We could try to comfort him-?"

After 10 minutes, when logan hadn't stopped bleeding, remus drove them all to the urgent care center for logan to get stitches. He had to get a quick psych evaluation, but as it had been his soulmate he was soon released back to his friends in the waiting room.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Virgil woke up in his dark room. He grabbed his phone- it was 11am. Sure enough, his blackout curtains showed tiny speckles of light. He cleaned up from the previous night and looked at his arm. Around the deepest 3 cuts was a strange looking rash. There were these dots, almost as if... As if his soulmate had gotten stitches!

He hastily wrote another note. Why don't you write back? Do you hate me or something?

A few minutes passed.

The first note he had ever gotten. IreallyDontLikeThingsOnMySkin.  
And a phone number  
Then it started fading, as his soulmate was already washing it off. He quickly took a picture. He googled the area code. It wasn't that far away! He tapped the number into his phone. Anxiety bubbled up inside him and he chewed on the inside of his mouth. Hey, hi, hello? How do you greet the person you're spending the rest of your life with?

V: hey! Its ya soulmate

The fuck? That sounds very weird. I'm probably annoying him already

Logan: Hello. Sorry I didn't answer you all these months. The thing is, I don't actually get crushes or anything and I didn't want to have a soulmate and have to be in a relationship like that...

V: no shit sherlock! Me too. Have you never googled it?

Logan: No, I guess not.

V: it's chill. We're star-crossed friends!

Logan: Well, that makes sense. Are you okay, by the way?

They texted for hours after that. They learned about each other's life stories and friends, what they loved and hated, whatever was on their minds. They felt like they fit together, could talk about anything.

Logan added Virgil to a group chat with roman and his brothers, and janus, another one of their mutual friends. Virgil, being anxious and reclusive, didn't have anyone to add. For the first time in his life he wasn't upset about it. He had found a new group of friends. And they fit together, almost as if they were one person.

**Author's Note:**

> :/


End file.
